Cruel To Be Kind
by DrawingJournalist.junk
Summary: Caution: 18 or older only


I shut my eyes, cringe, and slam my hands to the side of my head to contain the straining explosion of nerves. Unexplainable anger seething off the tip of my tongue, I bite, clutch, and huff shallow breaths. Where the fuck is this coming from today? My fist clench with rage, the desire to break, destroy, and make someone bleed- no, no…I clench my jaw and scream. Not enough.

Fuck.

I cast my arms out wide as I strike out, only to find myself stranded in silence of this dank little bathroom. Oh. Here again, are we? I glare at myself in the mirror, only to witness the flicker of a smile onto my cracked, dry lips.

I chuckle for a second. Hear the echoes of insanity I recognize too well by now.

Alright. Deep breaths. There's a vague calm, lost within the depths of muscle…I just need to find it… Quiet takes over. A faraway sea lulls down my spine, slipping, easing…I find myself slumping back against the cold wall.

Peace.

I smile.

"Alright…" I assure myself, and hear my voice soft and delicate, almost too at ease. I turn back to the mirror, ruffle my red locks back to their normal partings, lean closer, and see the flares of red in my eyes.

"Heh… Don't even worry about it, Morgan. S'all good. Just….chill."

But the slam of a door sends a shudder through my body, my silence wrecked, and I spin and glare at the back of the door.

"Morgan? I'm hoooo-oome!"

You.

God, you've been chirpy recently. You never wanna fuck, it drives me insane. The thought wires through my jaw, locking it in place… Oh, so that's it?

You. I don't get pissed at you much, do I? Put up with everything, the mess you- we make, and I always tidy…but the mess I clean up is never the one I want to.

Y'know what? Payback.

I take a deep breath, a smirk as I shove open the door, stride out, feeling my muscles twitching with bitter misplaced anger, but I don't care- for once, you'll be my relief. And there you are, dropping the shopping bags, not unpacking them of course, just idly sashaying to the couch, slumping down… You glance up at me with those beautiful ocean eyes.

"Heyyyyy! Wait…were you in the tub, without me?"

The hairs on the back of my neck bristled.

"Because you know I love joining you…"

My heart begins to race with anticipation, urging me to get on with it, to grab you already.

And so I do. I hitch my fingertips into your collar, briskly draw you up, my lack of shits given taking you by surprise as I drag you right up to me and you stumble on unsteady feet, and I feel your nervous breath shutter across my cheek.

And you whisper, "Wh- H-how are you?"

"Screw you," I hiss, and without even my own thought I throw you across the room with little effort, and you hit the wall with a thump, and before you can even catch yourself I step over, grab your shoulders. You struggle feebly. I laugh, a harsh sadistic cackle crackling through the tension. I can see the fear in you, the way you tremble and stare. I dig my nails deeper and watch your expression contort with pain as I scratch at your neck, leaving the skin raw and ripe for my bite. Your flesh tastes of sweat and panic. I feel your own pulse hitch under my firm tongue as you pant out, and try to squirm free again, but this time your own body forbids you. You whine as if to complain, but your erection tells me otherwise.

"Shut up already," I grumble, more to myself than you, tearing at the collar of your shirt, soft rips sparking through my mind till I can pinch your nipple, nails denting in hard…but as I press closer I know how much you like it.

"Morgan- please ahh- nnngg- stop-"

You've never said that to me before. Once again my anger flares up. As if _I_ ever have a say in all this?! Even now my actions seem beyond me, fueled by lust and some twisted form of love. Like cruel to be kind.

"I told you," I growl, straight into your ear, making sure the husky tones curl up into your mind like smoke, "to shut up."

I guess it's your anxiety that forces you into silence as I grab your hand, sticky with sweat, and lead you into the bedroom, not daring to look back, knowing you wouldn't dare not follow. The chill of the open window hits you, and you shiver as I ruthlessly swing you ahead of me, making sure you land on the bed, and I climb on top, driving my knee down on your back, till you lie flat, panting desperately into the bedsheets.

"Morgan, I-"

Before I can get a hold of myself I'm cracking my knuckles on impulse, eyeing the tender white canvas of your back. You keep trying to talk. Silly Matte… Claws sharpened, I rake them down your back, pressing my hips down on your behind, reminding you who's on top, who's the one in charge. Me. Jagged red lines etch across you, crude angst art. And you're still whimpering. I drag my talons down the same tracks again and again, carving away slowly, digging into my prey as hard as I can till speckles of blood escape. I can tell I'm scaring you. Scarring you. But this has been coming for a while, has it not?

"Will you be quiet now?"

"Ah- fuck- yes- okay, yes!"

"Yes, WHO?" I pose myself for another scratching session, and you instantly react, struggling, buckling your hips against me, only to realize I'd left you no chance of escape.

"Yes Morgan- sir- master- whatever you want! Wh-whatever you want…"

I chuckle.

"Good boy."

I softly stroke down your scars. Hear you sigh in relief. Until I utter, "Stay still."

"Wha- what? What are you-?"

"I said, stay still."

You go silent again. I guess you learn fast. Haha, I wasn't even getting started, masochist…but I guess you know that.

Climbing off, I don't even glance back. I know you'll stay still, hardly even daring to breathe, tears stinging your eyes, pain radiating down your back in warning…I head to my drawer, the one I forbid you to go in. Draw it open, and smirk. So much choice…and not enough time to put on a show of it all. Whips? Overused. Chains? Hmm, mostly costume. Handcuffs? Too gentle these days. All the other toys far too pleasurable for him.

Looks like it'll have to be industrial tonight.

The rope is old and frayed, a morbid excuse for an implement, but it'll do.

I can feel your gaze on me. You've moved, haven't you? HAVEN"T YOU?

As I step briskly closer you roll over onto your back and scuttle away, but I'm faster, grabbing your wrists, easily tugging them both towards me with one hand, looping the rope around them, tugging it tight, knowing it burns, knowing you don't want me to, I know, I know… God, you don't shut up, do you?

"Stop begging," I grumble, but you're not listening. Although for someone trying to get away, you're not trying very hard. I smile to myself, and glance down.

Ohhhh, you're loving it. I knew you liked it rough but…even I know this is bordering on rape. But both of us are too into it to stop now, right?

"Morgan- please- don't- I-I'll do anything, stay still, suck you, n-no repayment needed- dammit Morgan, stop!" Despite it all, you hardly resist as I shove you over onto your front, body awkwardly bent with your bonded arms beneath you. I know it's just your way of teasing, of regaining some power, but I'll get that out of you, wont I? You know I will.

You want me to, don't you?

"You want me to fuck you, Matte?"

That shuts you up. I hear your ragged breathing as your mind races for an answer, a dodge, a way of not giving in just yet- but you know it's only a matter of time. I'm already tugging at your shorts, not bothering to take off your belt, letting it catch and struggle past your hips, leaving an indent before the clothes tear free, and scraping down your boxers with them. You tighten instinctively when I grab you. I chuckle harshly.

"You want me to fuck you till you scream?"

That got you, didn't it? You tremble. We both know that scream- the sudden, unexpected, high-pitched low-restraint wake up the neighbors scream of yours when you're shocked, scared beyond your wits…

"Morgan- p-please I'm- I'm fucking begging you-"

"I know you are, Matte. But not enough."

"N-n-not enough?! How- what- Morgan-"

"It's too late." I chuckle darkly, feel you nervously shift away, but my grip on your ass is tight. I quickly shove you forward, shoving your face in the pillow, muffling your short yelp, angling you for me. You keep yourself clenched, but arousal sends quick spasms through your muscles, loosening you without your permission. And as you strain to hold yourself back, you only tempt me more. As I push my left thumb into you entrance and you cry out, I busy my other hand with my own fly, wiggling them down, clenching my jaw as a sharp breeze catches my heat.

You're still begging? Seriously?

"St-stop it…Fuu- ah- ngggg-"

"Nope," I chuckle, and push my thumb deeper, feeling you tighten in protest around me, only to shove my index finger in next to it, widen you out in one quick split.

"Y-you'll kill me- please- g-go easy-"

I sigh, wondering how you can keep going like this. Part of me wants to fist you, punch inside you till your body explodes but- you're right. I don't want to fuck a dead body. Even in my craze I know that killing you would not be a good move.

Through it all, you're still my partner, after all. And I still love you, you know?

Saying that-

I let you snap back shut and you groan out at the sudden release, body lurching in pain, eyes watering, dampening your pillow- actually it's my side of the bed, probably not a good idea… Oh well. When you pass out here I'm hardly going to bother moving you.

You'll have earned your rest…

I ease myself closer, taking a breath, letting you hang in wait. I can hear you panting, whining a little… And I whisper in your ear, "You want this, don't you, Matthew?"

Before you even think about it you're saying, "Yes Morgan, sir, master, yes…please…please…"

I guess sympathy gets to me. I stroke you hair gently, hear you gasp in fear, only to be reassured by my softness.

Remember me?

After this you'll be thankful for the soft version of me.

I tighten my grip on your locks suddenly, arc your head back as I ram into you, far, far too tight as you clench and struggle, and pressing close I feel you sticky with sweat and trickles of blood, and I shove in again. You whine loudly, as loudly as I expect; I reward you with another thrust, your body hugging around mine as you try to relax only for the spasms and flinches to catch you again and again, nerves almost pulsing out for me, stroking back on me- I sigh longingly, feel my eyes slip shut- no. No, I want to watch. Want to see everything you do, hear all the noises you make- and how could I miss them? The whole forest can probably hear you.

Every inch seems to torture and pleasure you at the same time, your cheeks beet red, your eyes watering at the lack of lubrication, and I'll be honest it hurts me too. You're so fucking tight. In every way.

"M-MORGAN- AH-"

"Oh shut up and take it!" I hiss in all cliché, not caring, not minding myself, focusing on how good you feel, how sexy you are, how animal your yelps are becoming.

"N-NO! No- more- MORGAN! F- PEACH, FUCK IT HURTS, PEACH!"

You've never used the safe word before, neither of us have.

Now I know this is serious.

But I can't stop now.

"One more…okay?"

"IM GONNA CUM- AH- NO, NO! MORGAN- AHH- NGGG-"

Your body is burning up; I can almost see steam come off your back now. Beads of sweat roll down my neck, wondering if I can handle one more, but, but-

"HNN- MATTE-"

There, right there, there, I got it, got you, fuck, a tangled mess of nerves erupts at my touch and you can't take it, almost flailing as you lose control, cum everywhere, streaming out under you. Some sort of hissing and choking also took over you, and I panicked for a brief second, regaining my senses, clasping into threads of sanity, realizing- oh fuck, what have I done?! But I'm beyond the point of no return, mind flickering away into blackness and then a bright white of reality and I feel almost sick as I push again, rocking on a hitched muscle, holding your hips tighter than I want to but I can't stop myself until-

"Hahhhhh- ah- aha- M-matte…M-matte!"

You collapse under me, I pull out, take you in my arms. Your eyes are shut, chest heaving, body still jerking, erection only beginning to wane as the last dribbles out. I stroke your cheek.

Eyelids flutter open.

I sigh in relief and kiss you gently, for the first time in all of this…I want to apologize but I'm too scared you won't accept it.

This was…

I raped you, didn't I?

"Morgan…" you begin, and I brace myself for the backlash, the- the break-up. "Morgan…"

"I-" but the words die in my throat.

"Th-that was…"

I hold my breath.

"…th-the best fucking climax I-in my life…"

I can't help it. "Wh-what?"

You chuckle. Wink.

I can't help you still won somehow.

…Fuck.


End file.
